Volatile
by curiosityanddreams
Summary: Charlotte like many others, is just another lost one. With one small exception. Peter Pan, is anything but what he's supposed to be. It's not easy, and apparently she's not allowed to leave the island But she's not allowed to stay either. Charlotte, isn't even supposed to be there. Charlie, however, is another story. And Charlie isn't here to play, he's here to escape.
1. When the Abduction Happened

The very first thing I hear when I awake is the cool sound of pipes blowing in through my window. Crawling out of bed slowly, I wipe the sleep out of my eye and bring myself closer to the melodic sound. I open the window quietly and peek outside. Off into the distance I spot a red glow coming from the park in the downtown core. A fire. I pick up my phone and turn it on, looking for the time. After my eyes adjust to the bright white light I realise it's just past 4 AM. It also seems as though I've missed a few calls from Alison. When I call, it's not her that answers, but the blaring of a voicemail. I groan, turning around and rummaging through my drawers for something to wear.

Alison had told me about a 'mad' party that was happening tonight. The McKinley academy for Boys, is celebrating the end of summer. Which is odd, considering September has come and gone, along with its warmth. It's not unlike rich boys to make any excuse to party, and it's also not unlike Alison to attend a party. She must be in a lot of trouble; it's not like her to call me seven times. It's not like her to call me at all.

Quickly pulling on jeans and a hoodie to keep me warm in the cold October air, I tie my hair into a ponytail and slide into my long black combat boots. I decide to pull up my hood before climbing out my window, to keep the harsh wind off my head. I slowly make my way across the window sill, something I've only done a few times before, and have only done successfully once before. It seems as though luck is on my side however, as I make it down in one piece.

The sound of the pipes is so loud that I follow it instead of road signs to get downtown.

After a few minutes of jogging, I round the corner and spot what looks like forty boys, all dancing and shouting in the park. They chant and run around a roaring bonfire, doing a strange dance. Normally, the McKinley boys are blaring loud rap music and grinding on everything in sight, excluding each other. I feel like I've walked into a cult. Taken aback for a few seconds, I just stare at everyone.

A boy with brown hair is seated on a bench, playing a tune on a pan flute. He looks up at me and grins a crooked grin, his eyes digging into me. An aggressive glare I quickly turn away from him, then peek back when I think he isn't looking

He is an odd boy, it seems. I can't make out much about him, other than that his clothes are tatty and dirty.

I turn and look at the boys dancing. None of them are wearing anything that looks new, except five or six who are dancing in pajamas. The rest wear long dark cloaks with their hoods up. Hiding.

It's then that I realise I'm not at the party Alison asked me to come to. A stupid amount of time to come to a conclusion, and I have no excuse for my idiocy. I turn around to leave but the boy with the pan flute is standing directly behind me. I try to catch my balance but fall to the ground behind me. The boy stops playing his pan flute but the music continues.

"What are you waiting for, boy?" He asks me, cocking his head to the side. "Dance."

The boy gives me the willies. There's something about his demeanor that rakes up and down my spine. He raises an eyebrow at me, a faint smile on his face. I immediately get up off the ground and join the crowd of boys dancing. The cold breeze is unfaltering but the fire is keeping me warm. I look over at the boy. He walks over towards the group of us.

"Alright boys, that's enough now," he says. Every boy in the line immediately stops dancing, turning their attention to the boy.

"I think we've had enough fun for one trip. Let's call it a night and head back!"

Everyone shouts as the boy, who I now believe is their leader, throws what looks like a small green rock on the ground. A swirling light blue pool opens on the ground and I scream, jumping back in surprise. The boy looks into the crowd, searching for the origin of the scream but doesn't say anything. The boy jumps into the blue circle and is swallowed down into the earth.

It is at that point which I can no longer feel any of the bones in my body. My knees begin to shake and I feel extremely light headed. All of a sudden I am pushed along into the blue circle, tumbling down what feels like an abyss.


	2. When Introductions Happened

**Day: 1**

All of a sudden I stop feeling nothing and instantly feel pain. I peel my eyes open and brush the dirt off of my face, groaning. I landed face first into the dirt. I slowly stand up, aching everywhere, and look around, tucking my stray hairs inside my hood. I am in a clearing of a forest.

Which makes no sense. I'm in a clearing of my mind. I hit the ground so hard my mind has been relieved of all logic and reason. I'm hallucinating.

I hear groaning and look down to my right at a boy in pajamas, who looks frightened out of his damn mind. I reach a hand down to help him up off the ground.

"Well Toto, I don't think we are in Kansas anymore," I say to the boy, mustering out a small chuckle, trying to ease the awkward tension in the air.

When Dorothy returned from Oz in the story, didn't everyone think she was insane? I'm starting to feel insane.

He stands next to me shaking. Not saying a word

"You ok there bud?" Choppy breath leaves my mouth, slicing the silence.

"Where are we?" His voice tiptoes on the line between calm and panic.

"I don't know." They say honesty is the best policy, but who are they and what are their motives? Maybe I should lie to him, tell him he's safe. "I'm Charlie."

"I'm Max," he stutters. "Max Campbell."

"Max?" I ask him. "How old are you."

"14."

Max looks young. He is shorter than I am, probably around five foot six. Brown hair hangs over his freckled face like a visor, protecting his eyes from the harsh sunlight.

It's sunny. At 4 AM. I'm losing my mind.

Suddenly loud chanting erupts from behind us. I quickly spin around. In front of me is a massive circle of boys. They are all shouting and whooping at something, presumably what's in the center of the circle. I walk over towards the circle and manage to fight my way through, Max in tow.

In the center of the circle are two boys, one of whom I recognise. Johnny, my neighbour, wipes his blonde hair out of his eyes as he charges another boy. He tackles the other boy, grunting as they land on the ground. The boy clocks Johnny in the face, before shoving him off.

"Alright, fun times over boys," a voice says behind me.

I look up into the trees and spot the boy with the pan flute. He jumps down and walks into the circle, everyone parting around him.

"Now Alex, was the new boy giving you trouble?" He asks, an eerie look on his face.

"Not at all," the other boy, Alex, frowns. "I was just saying hello, that's all."

Pan Flute turns to my neighbour. "What's your name?"

Johnny spits, blood on the ground "I'm Johnny."

"Well Johnny, bright start then?" Pan Flute asks. I don't think he's being sarcastic.

"First impression are everything." Johnny smirks back.

Pan Flute smiles. "I like you," He turns to the crowd. "It's dinner time."

The boys cheer and run towards the long wooden table, still whooping. They dance and laugh as they run towards the long table, their weapons still in tow.

"Except for you new ones," Pan Flute smiles at us. "It's time we get acquainted."

He struts closer to the six of us who are left. "Close your mouths before you catch flies. We're just here to have a little fun, that's all."

He points to the boy closest to his left, "What's your name, boy?"

"Marcus," the boy answers. He has a thick Scottish accent unlike many of the boys here, who seem to mostly have British accents, Pan Flute included.

He points to the next boy and the next, getting them all to say their names. He points to Max who shouts out his name to Pan Flute, the stutter he had earlier gone.

Pan Flute points at me. "Now there, what would your name be?"

"My name is Charlie," I tell him, looking at him straight in the eye.

"Well Charlie, it's nice to meet you chap." He smirks.

I don't think he knows I'm not a boy, and I get the feeling this information is best kept a secret. Whether it be because everyone else here seems to be a boy or because of the incredibly creepy look he always has on his face. Pan Flute seems to be a force I'd rather not mess with.

"There is some spare clothing in the tent over there," Pan Flute says pointing towards the tent in the back. "I do believe you all will be able to find something in your size."

No one moves in the circle, we all just sort of look at each other. "Well off you go now, hurry up before all the food is gone."

All the boys around run towards the tent but I don't budge. Pan Flute cocks his head to the side and walks over to me.

"Now Charlie," he begins. "Disobeying me already? Why, we've only just met."

"I'd like to leave." I tell him.

The words are immediately followed by silence. He looks up at me, puzzled. Rubbing his hand along his mouth and chin, he looks from the ground to me.

"Oh isn't this lovely? Here's one who isn't afraid of me. You don't see one of those every day, now do you?" He grins. "It would do you good to listen to me and to hold your tongue during your stay here."

"Where exactly is here?" I demand.

"Why lad, you're in Neverland."

"I suppose that would make you Peter Pan, now wouldn't it?" I ask him sarcastically.

"That's right. Smart one you are. Smart and fearless make a nasty combination." He chuckles.

"I hate to break it to you," I almost laugh. "But Neverland isn't real."

"You hate to break it to me?" He asks. "Tisk, tisk, I don't know how things work back in your land, but you would do well to suck up to me. Talking disrespectfully will get you nowhere on this island. Nowhere at all."

Pan Flute begins to make his way closer to me. I slowly back up until I'm pressed against a tree as he eyes me up and down, still grinning. "I own this island. Which means I have direct control over everything on it. Don't think you're any special, kid. I own you."

I gulp. Pan Flute is literally insane. I'd be an idiot to not be scared of him.

"Why did you bring me here?" I ask.

I'm an idiot.

He looks at me funny, "I think the proper question is 'why did you come?'"

"I didn't ask for you to bring me here, you do realise that? I didn't know what was happening when we were at that stupid bonfire. If I had known that you were about to kidnap me I would have left before I had even arrived." I raise my arm to shove him away from me but he blocks me.

His grin doesn't falter. "I don't keep prisoners on my island. At least, not when it can be avoided. If you heard my music and if you followed it down to my circle of boys and then on top of that you managed to come down through the portal, then you want to be here. At the very least you wanted to leave wherever you were before. I'm most certainly not wasting any of my precious time or energy on getting you back to your stupid little land without magic especially when you would rather be here than there, so I guess you had better figure out why you want to be in Neverland, because to me it doesn't appear as though you will be getting back home anytime soon."

With that he storms off.

I enter the now empty tent. There are clothes scattered around everywhere making up piles on the ground that are completely disorganised. As if the entire world had laundry day at once. The tent smells putrid; I can taste the sweat and broken dreams. I peek around, looking for something to change into without actually having to touch any of the clothes. If I am going to stay here while I try to find a way back home, I'll need to look like I'm one of these boys. Even if it means sacrificing my hygiene and my dignity in the process.

I pick up a pair of pants off the ground and immediately drop them. The smell is literally burning my eyes. If I remain in here any longer I am positive I will go blind. No more lovely blue skies. No more watching the rain. No more Pan Flute's stupid face. Actually, going blind might not be as bad as I might think it is.

All of the clothes in here are made of this itchy material, so much so that I have come to the conclusion it must be made of hedgehogs' hide. My guess is all the good stuff is currently being worn by the boys. That is, if there is any good stuff.

I pick up a long black cloak. It looks about my size, perhaps slightly too baggy, and it's the only one that has buttons on the front. These will be perfect to help cover up the fact that I, in fact do not have the body of a twelve year old boy. Turning towards the tent door, I quickly throw off my sweater and throw on the cloak. I'm suddenly thankful I wore a black t-shirt underneath my sweater and not just a bra.

Someone walks into the tent just as I finish doing up the last button. I quickly throw my hood over my long brown hair, hoping they didn't notice it.

"Hey, you're a New aren't you?" The boy asks.

I nod in confirmation, pretty sure I'm what he calls a New.

"You know, no one washes these clothes ever, they're pretty ghastly. Most of the cloaks are fine because they aren't normally worn on the grounds, but the pants and shirts are awful." He looks me up and down. "Your pants should do you fine, your shoes too."

He sticks his hand out, "I'm Robert."

"Charlie," I say shaking his hand.

"Well Charlie, it's nice to meet you, but if you wouldn't mind I was just passing through." He picks up a cloak of the ground. "It's time for hide-and-go-seek in a few days, or so I've heard. I've got to prepare myself, you know?"

"Hide-and-go-seek?" I ask.

His face goes white. "It's nothing. Forget I said anything."

He practically runs out the tent. I'm about to follow him when I realise I don't have a solution for the hair. I don't have scissors or anything on me to cut it on me, and even if I did I doubt I'd be able to part with it. I search around for a hat or something to cover it with but come up with nothing.

"Dear lord this isn't happening," I mutter to myself.

I sit on the ground and cross my legs, breathing heavily. As ridiculous as a hat is, it's setting me off. I am in a strange land with a creepy boy. Correction, a couple dozen creepy boys. I don't know how to get home, let alone how I got here and my sister is probably worried sick by now. I bury my face into my hands, rubbing my eyes with my fingers.

Suddenly I feel a shift in the air and I sit back up. I have this odd feeling, as if I'm being watched. I stand up and glance around nervously. I notice a brown hat sitting on top of a pile of clothes. I can't believe I hadn't noticed it before. It's a really lovely cap, in fact it's just my style. It's a hard hat, so much so that I have the feeling it's shaped with a soft plastic or really durable cardboard. The top of the hat is like a short cylinder; it rises above the brim of the hat slightly, but definitely not so much that it could be considered a top hat. The brim of the cap has a small visor with a slight curve. It's like something a paperboy would wear, back in the 1930's.

I pick it up and place it on my head. It fits well, not lose enough that it could fall off without a hard pull, but not so tight that I can't feel my brain. I gather my hair and quickly shove the ponytail inside the cap, to hide any traces of my long hair.

I walk outside the tent and glance around me. The tent area is basically empty, everyone is either crowed around the long table eating like savages or they are by the fire, singing and dancing. I am awfully hungry.

Just as I turn around, someone grabs me from behind. One hand over my mouth and the other across my waist as they pull me back inside the tent. I try to scream but am muffled by the hand. I'm yanked inside the tent and I fall face first on to the floor. Between me and the door is the boy who threw me inside.

I begin to stand up as the boy comes to my side, helping me up off the ground. I turn towards him about to attack, when I see his face.

"Calm down, Charlie. It's me." Johnny says.

I look up and indeed it is Johnny.

"Did you need to sneak up on me like that?" I ask him. "You scared me half to death."

"What the hell are you doing?"

Johnny has never been one for formalities. Not even hello comes from his mouth before he cuts straight to the chase.

"I was heading over to get food; you should more concerned with you are doing, scaring people like that will get you killed eventually." My fingers gesture to his eye, which is already swelling from where he was punched in the face.

He rolls his eyes. "I meant why are you on Neverland?"

"You actually think this is Neverland?" I scoff in his face.

He glares at me. "We fell through a magic portal and some guy says he's Peter Pan. Why wouldn't I believe him.

I look at him and roll my eyes. "Johnny, snap out of it. Neverland isn't a real place. That Pan Flute guy is mentally deranged."

"How else do you explain what's happening?" He demands. "We fell through a portal to a foreign place, with a group of boys."

"I need to get back home." His reasoning is dumb, best not to even acknowledge it. "My sister needs me. Besides, I think Alison is in danger. She called me before we got whisked away."

"Alison?" He croaks. "What... what do you mean "Alison is in danger?""

"She called me, that's how I found you guys, she's at some frat type party." I explain. "Don't worry though, she can hold her own."

He gulps. "You don't know she's safe for sure."

I roll my eyes. "I'm just as certain she is safe as I am certain that you are in love with her."

"I am not."

"Not what?" A familiar voice asks from behind Johnny.

"Nothing." Johnny and I say simultaneously, turning to face the voice.

"Well, I certainly think you aren't nothing either. I like useful people." Pan Flute, owner of the gross voice, smiles.

I freeze, my voice hitching in my throat. I can't decide if his anger or his smile terrifies me more. Perhaps it's a healthy combination of both.

He looks at me funny. "You're a strange little one, aren't you boy?"

I glare at him. But don't say anything. He grins back at me, his pearly whites flashing.

Johnny steps closer to Pan Flute, "I'm sorry to bother you sir but I was wondering if we can talk for a minute outside the tent."

I almost gag at the word sir. Pan Flute looks over at me for a second. I look away from him, trying to show that I'm not going to be defiant. If I want to survive for however long I'm here, I should try to get on his good side. I look back over at see a wide grin across his face. Like he knows something I don't. He looks at Johnny then back at me and cocks an eyebrow.

"Sure Johnny, come on." He says gesturing outside the tent. The two walk out, leaving me alone in a tent filled with smelly clothes.


	3. When Being Chosen Happened

After a few minutes standing in the tent alone, I walk outside and bump into a boy, with shaggy blonde hair. He wears a dark brown cloak and old-fashioned clothes like everyone else here. His hood covers his face, but beneath a huge scar shines out, one that is across his face.

"Watch where you are going." The boy scowls.

"Sorry," I muster. "I didn't mean-"

"Sorry?" He chuckles. "Nobody's ever…" He pauses looking me over. "Oh I get it, you must be some of the fresh meat that's been brought in."

My eyes widen, baffled by the boy's rambling. The boy who looks like he could slaughter me if I so much as breathed on him. Slaughter me with a simple look. His smile grows wider, a smile that means nothing but trouble. He turns around and walks away from me.

This boy is scary. Pan Flute is terrifying in the sense that he is on the verge of becoming a murderer. This boy is terrifying in the sense that he probably already is one.

I sigh and suddenly notice an object being whipped towards me. I catch it in my hand out of pure instinct, something that I've never done before. I look up at the grinning boy.

"Oh you're one of those aren't you?" He asks. "All bite and no bark? That's my favourite, you know? The silent killers, like Samuel. Are you a silent killer?"

"No," I feel the words pour out of my mouth, surprised that they've managed to find themselves. "My bite is good, but my bark is better."

He smiles at me, a little less crooked than before. "What do they call you?"

 _Charlotte._ "Charlie."

"Well _Charlie_ ," the boy looks at me. "You have hereby been cordially invited to the Night Hunt. We leave now. Come on."

With that the boy storms off leaving me with no choice but to chase after him. He walks into the tent just beside the one with all the clothing. I enter in after him. The tent is much larger on the inside than on the out, like out of a Harry Potter movie. The walls of the tent are covered with swords, knives and bows. There are five or six separate rows of shelves filled with assorted weaponry. Comparing this tent to the one filled with clothing helps me understand the boys on this island's priorities; fighting.

"Your weapon of choice?" He asks.

I shrug my shoulders at him. I never had reason to touch anything remotely lethal. My mother owned a large sword that she use to keep on the mantel above the fireplace, she had wanted to teach us how to use it one day. I wish more than ever she had gotten the chance.

"Right, you're new. Just pick two."

I walk over to the wall and look around at all the assorted weaponry. I notice out of the corner of my eye a dagger that looks about the length of my forearm. It has a black shiny handle embroidered with silver. I pick it up and toss it in my hand.

"Oh hell yeah," I whisper to myself. I quickly look around, noticing the boy's growing impatience. I pick up a bow and a quiver of arrows that accompany it. I look over at the boy and nod, slinging the bow and arrows over onto my back. I stick the dagger into a pocket on the inside of my cloak, which proves difficult with the boy standing in front of me, as I could reveal myself at any second. He taps his fingers over the sword on his belt.

Impatient.

I follow him out of the tent anyway.

He begins to walk much faster, and I begin after him through the crowd of boys that has yet to die down at all. A never-ending party. He walks straight into the forest, cutting to a brown trail. He twists and turns about randomly until I've lost my sense of direction, which must've been difficult because I consider myself to have a great sense of direction. I follow him into a larger clearing with about fifteen boys in it. Pan Flute stands atop a rock towards the far end of the clearing. The boy I was with walks up next to Pan Flute but doesn't get up on the rock.

"Alright boys, welcome to the Night Hunt!" Pan Flute shouts into the crowd of boys.

The boys begin to cheer and pat each other on the backs. Obviously, I am missing out on some grand occasion. It seems as though half the camp is in this crowd; what could make it so special?

"Enough of the chatter. Most of you haven't ventured deep out into Neverland. None of you have done so at night. You don't have to worry about any Indians, there are no pirates, at least at the moment, and there certainly aren't any fairies, well, real ones anyway."

A few of the boys chuckle along with Pan Flute as though his joke is common knowledge. I scan the crowd, looking to see who else was picked to come along. The boy who fought Johnny is here, Alex was his name. Same as the kid from the tent, Robert I think. A few boys have their backs to me so I can't see them. One of them turns around; Johnny.

"What are we hunting tonight?" A boy shouts out.

"What are we hunting tonight?" Pan Flute echoes, cocking an eyebrow. "Tonight we hunt wild boars. You all know about those don't you? Silly little things, will give you a run for your money if you let them. Your job is to _not_ let them."

"What happens if we don't catch a boar before dawn?" Another demands.

Pan Flute looks at me and chuckles. "That won't be possible. You have six hours."

He smiles over us, a smile that seems quite genuine. A smile that makes me wonder what exactly I've gotten myself into, seeing as Pan Flute is a certified sadist. At least, probably.

"Go," he commands, and the boys madly scramble off into the distance.

I look over at Johnny, who is running alone into the woods. I bounce on my feet once and begin to sprint towards him before I'm yanked backwards by the collar of my cloak.

"Boy," Pan Flute says into my ear, my back still to his. Cold breath on my neck. Funny, breathe is normally warm. "I'm not saying I have high expectations, because I don't, given that you are a New. What I am saying is that you'd better not die so early. That would be no fun."

I roll my eyes. Kid may actually be intimidating, but he is so full of it. I try to shrug out of his grip. I hear a loud pop, like I'm cracking my knuckles, but on every bone in my body. All of my muscles tense and for a second I can't breathe. Suddenly I'm crash down into Johnny, who was definitely a good 800 feet ahead of me. We both tumble onto the ground.

I roll off of Johnny, who begins to groan. "Who is that?"

"Charlie," I wheeze beside him, hitting my chest in an attempt to get the wind that was knocked out of me to knock back into me.

"Charlie?" He sounds confused. "What the hell are you doing here? I thought we were on the same page with you keeping a low profile."

"I thought we were on the same page with Pan Flute being psychopathic sadist who should be avoided at all costs." I counter.

I stand up and help pull Johnny to his feet. He stands up and stretches out his arms and torso for a few seconds. He looks at me and gestures to the head and that's when I realise I'm not wearing the hat. I quickly look down and scoop it off the ground, tucking all of my hair back inside.

"We should chop that off," Johnny gestures to my hair.

"We should but we won't." I argue. "If you so much as look at my hair wrong I will fight you."

He rolls his eyes. "Right now what we need to do is go find us two wild boar. I actually want to make it into the next round. The closer to Pan the better."

"So much for laying low," I mutter.

He sighs. "That rule is you specific."

I begin to jog forwards, turning around gesturing for him to jog with me. He runs up next to me and we begin to jog through the forest. Johnny is a large dude. He is taller than me, I'd say around 6"3. He has muscular arms and legs; a result of being on the football team. Despite being on the team for so many years, Johnny has yet to develop one key skill; coordination. When running on a field, he doesn't need it as much as you'd think. As we run through the forest however, he stumbles on every root we cross, hits his head on every branch hanging from the trees, and overall manages to make a huge amount of sound.

"Johnny," I pant, "you've got to be quieter dude. There's no way will find boar if you keep up at this volume."

"It doesn't matter how loud I am right now," he exhales. "Pan didn't explain the Night Hunt very well at the debriefing. I heard from some of the stories how the whole game thing is set up, Old Longs' tales they called them. It's a play on words."

"Yeah, I know." I say. "Old Wives' Tales. What are Longs?"

"They are the boy's who've been here since the early 1900s. We are News, anyone here in the new shipment. There are also boomers, but I've got no idea what those are. People have tended to just say what year they are from and then ask me what year it is."

"They don't know the date?" I frown.

"They've been here for a near two hundred years, at least some. That guy you were with is the oldest guy. Early 1800s I think. He's the only one left from his century."

"Why so few? I ask.

"I've only been here an hour, how am I supposed to know? I've learned bits and pieces of information, but not much. I mostly just learned about the Night Hunt"

"Yeah back to that," I huff. I have no clue how Johnny can manage to talk and run at the same time.

"Right so there is a trial before we get to the boar area. It's about five kilometers away from the starting point. So we'll probably be there in like five minutes since we've been running for like twenty. At least that's how long I was told it'd take. Dumb British people and their British measurements. Anyway, after the trial the boars are all within a three kilometer radius. The trouble isn't in the catching of the boars, it's in the bringing of them back to where Pan is."

I nod, taking a deep breath in. I was never a track star. I'm good at sprinting very small distances, and jogging long distances, but I've reached my limit for the distance that I can run. As I'm about to keel over, Johnny speeds up.

"Look," he shouts, "I see something up ahead!"

I cough and wheeze for a few seconds, then run trying to catch up to him. He suddenly stops running. I catch up to him.

"Holy Mother of Christ," I pant.

Where we've stopped there is a sudden stop in the forest. Green grass that is up to my knees covers the next twenty feet. After those few feet, lies a giant ravine. I'm not quite sure how long it is across, maybe a quarter of a mile. It is insanely deep. So much so that I take a giant step back into the forest. I'm on flat ground, but suddenly I feel as if I'm standing on a tightrope. It open air, you'd assume you'd feel weightless.

I feel as if I'm being compressed. I'm suffocating.

"Now would you look at that," I hear the still familiar, yet infinitely more annoying voice of Pan Flute. "It seems that despite being the newest, you sure aren't the weakest."

I step out of the forest and on to the grass to see the brat jumping down from a tree. He saunters over. "One would think that you boys would be dead last, not the second group. I'm very impressed. And I don't impress easily."

"So is this the trial?" Asks Johnny. "The gorge?"

"Why indeed it is. Excellent detective work." Pan Flute smiles.

I roll my eyes. "What exactly are we supposed to do?"

"Silly little boy isn't it obvious?" He cocks an eyebrow at me. "You have to get from this end of the ravine. To that end of the ravine."

"How do you suggest doing that?" I ask, trying to make my voice sound free of rancor.

"Well you see, it is 200 meters long, and about 450 meters deep. So I don't suggest going down it. Going around it isn't going to work either. It's unending."

"How is it unending?" I ask.

"Magic," Pan Flute answers, a smile still etched across his face.

"How am I not surprised?" I mutter.

"Oh I forgot the most important part," he grins. "There is a bridge."

"Where might this bridge be?" Johnny asks calmly.

"It's right there," he says pointing at the empty ravine. I walk closer to the edge and look down, trying to see if he put the bridge part way down. No such luck.

"What do you mean the bridge is right there? There is no bridge. It's just ravine, and more ravine."

I figured it out, he doesn't scare me. He's just a silly boy. He makes me angry.

"Wait, you can't see the bridge?" Johnny questions me.

"You can?" I turn to Johnny.

Pan Flute laughs. "Well you certainly aren't the truest believer, are you?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

"There is a bridge, but only if you believe in it. Johnny can walk across it, but you can't even if he lead you to it. Believing makes it real." He elaborates.

I roll my eyes at him, not having it. There isn't a bridge. Just ravine. This is his way of killing us all, I bet. Having us walk on to an 'invisible' bridge, only to fall to our deaths. This is exactly what I should have expected from this psychotic maniac. The night hunt was a terrible idea.

"And you'd better hurry," Pan Flute adds. "The sun is about to set, and I'd hate for you to find out what lurks in the dark of Neverland."

"What happens at-" I cut myself off. Pan Flute had disappeared without a trace. "Great, just fantastic. We're going to die before we even come near a boar. Remind me, why are we even doing this?"

"Shhhh!" Johnny hushes me. "The sun is setting now. He's right. You need to believe. We don't have all day. We don't even have all night."

I sigh and look down at the ground, breathing in and out lightly. I'm not going to believe in something that isn't real. It would be un-dignified. I look up. No bridge.

"Johnny, this is pointless," I sigh. "There is no bridge, there are no boars, and there certainly isn't anything dangerous 'lurking in the dark of Neverland' except for Pan Flute himself. Now, are we going to stay here or are we going to try to climb down deeper into the ravine?"

"I'm not climbing down there!" Johnny yells. "It's almost completely black out. We'll never be able to see a thing. I believe in you Charlotte. Come on. Trust me. You trust me, right?"

"That's a loaded question," I yawn, earning a glare from Johnny.

Johnny freezes, immediately going pale. He jumps forward tackling me.

"Johnny what the f-" I begin before Johnny clamps a hand over my mouth.

He looks at me, wide eyed, and then looks back up above us. His lips get sucked into his mouth, like an old man's who has forgotten to wear his dentures. His cheeks begin to turn red as he shakes, from what I imagine is deprivation of oxygen.

I shove him in attempt to get it off of me, but to no avail. It's getting darker out by the second. His features are shadowed over by his monstrous figure until I can barely make out his eyes. I kick him in the groin, causing his muscles to tense up even more as he rolls off of me, trying to keep silent. I laugh at him. I stand up, facing towards the forest chuckling.

That's when I see it. A tiger. A gigantic, furry beast that stand a few feet away from me. It stares right at me.

"Johnny," I whisper. "Tiger. Big tiger. Big scary tiger."

He slowly stands up next to me, still clutching himself.

"I tried," he musters. "Held you. Kicked me. Here we are."

Neither of us are breaking eye contact with the tiger. It knows we are here. It can probably sense us with its hyperactive hearing, night vision, echolocation, laser eyes. It probably is a cyborg. Probably. But not certainly. What I do know for certain is that it could eat us whole. That's not an exaggeration.

"The bridge," Johnny stammers. "Get to other side. Cut the bridge."

"There isn't a bridge. We've got to kill it." I reply.

"You've got to kill it." He replies. "I've got to take bridge. Safe bridge. Dangerous tiger."

The tiger crouches down. Its butt raises up high in the air as its shoulders and head become one. It still doesn't break eye contact. The tiger licks its lips. It's sizing us up, determining how big of a bite it needs to kill us. The tiger is most likely a mathematician. When x is how long it takes to get to the "bridge" and y is the speed of a tiger, the answer is 100% chance of death.

Johnny grabs my wrist and spins around. He looks straight at me, his face fear stricken.

"Run!" He shouts.

The tiger pounces.

I run.

Where I am running I haven't the foggiest. There is no bridge. There is only certain death. They say time slows down in life or death situations. It very well might. But in death or death situations time speeds up. There is no time. Only panic. My brain fires an idea a millisecond to try to save myself. Is this what my life has come to? Death by tiger on an island after being kidnap by 'Peter Pan' and forced to participate in some awful game where I must kill a boar? I refuse to believe so. The universe isn't so kind that it would have me die after so few hours of being on this forsaken island. It wants me to live, so I can continue to suffer. There is a bridge. There has to be a bridge.

With Johnny just behind me and the tiger just behind him I leap into the ravine.

Hi. So I didn't leave comments on my other two chapters because I'm not really familiar with this platform but hello. Thanks for sticking around this long. I really appreciate you taking the time out of your day to read this, and sincerely hope you enjoyed it. Review it, give me your honest feedback (if you'd like, no one here is saying you have to but I'd love to hear from you).

I have a few chapters backlogged, and since it's summer I will probably have an update everyday or every few days. You know how it is.

GAhhh I'm awkward and need to be stopped. I am embarrassing, but you matter. So, just keep existing I guess.

Destroy me...


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